Survival: Welcome to the Dark Side
by kissedmetillthemorninglight
Summary: He would always see the flames. Sethcentric RyanSeth later on. A fire destoys the Cohen family, leaving Seth to survive alone. Until he meets someone who just may understand.
1. Chapter 1

It was everywhere. Everywhere Seth turned the memory of that fateful night four years ago reared it's ugly head and loosened his fragile grip on sanity. Even when he closed his eyes the memory wouldn't leave him alone. The smell was there. The fumes tightened their grip around his lungs,leaving him gasping for air; the taste of smoke ever-present on his lips. Of course it wasn't there. There was no smoke, no deadly fumes. Not anymore.  
But he would always see the flames.

xxxxxxxxxxxFLASHBACKxxxxxxxxxxxxx

_Seth saw it first. The orange glow flickering off the computer screen mesmorized his sleepy mind. His mind was calm, and tired from another day of anticipation; anticipation of the end of the the day, the end of the year,  
the end of the torture and mockery he had become accustomed to throughout his twelve years of life. Slowly, he realized._

**Fire.**

_The house was on_fire._ He jolted awake._ How could I have been so stupid? How could I not realize that the house was on _fire_?_ Momentarily pausing his guilty thoughts, he scrambled out of bed. _What do I do now? Call 911? What if Mom and Dad already called?_ He stopped._ Mom and Dad. Do they know the house is on fire?_ He ran for the door, his mind registering the thick smoke and it's hold on his lungs. He grabbed the doorknob, and was instantly impacted by a scolding spasm of pain.  
_**Too late**

_He looked at his hand and saw the blisters forming already, blood flowing from a particularly extreme burn._

**The _fire_ has already taken over**

_His panic soon overpowered the pain as he realized. The rest of the house was on_ fire_. The rest of the house was gone._

**Mom.**

**Dad.**

_He had to get out. He sprinted across the room and opened the window with both hands, slashing the wounds on his hands. He didn't notice. The only thing present in his mind was the dark outline of the trees below his window. he quickly slipped out of the window and onto the first available branch. It was amazing how capable he became when strength was his only option. He slid onto the ground and was just as soon running towards the front door.  
He quickly stopped himself. The house was completely engulfed in flames, barely recognizable even to him. He didn't care. Along with his new-found strength came a complete disregard of logic._

_He stumbled up the driveway and, remembering his previous run-in with a doorknob, kicked the door until it gave way. It didn't take much strength. The house was crumbling to pieces. Once inside, he was overwhelmed by the lack of oxygen. He pulled his undershirt over his mouth and began searching through the flames for an expanse of existing wall. There was none.  
But soon he found a space between the flames. He ran through and found himself outside his parent's room. He opened the door. They weren't there._ Maybe they were fine. Undisturbed. Maybe they were calling 911._ But then he heard something. A faint murmur of a recognizable voice. He lept towards the sound of hope. Opening the closet door, he saw them._

_**Mom.**_

_**Dad.**_

_**Burned alive.**_


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two 

He still remembered their faces. Not the way they were up until that night- happy, peaceful, sometimes demanding but always loving- but the way they were when he last saw them. He couldn't even picture their faces without burns and blood and ash anymore. That was all they were.

Scars.

Scars that he would carry with him for the rest of his life.

He was twelve then, and soon after that night he was placed in a group home, because his real estate tycoon grandfather was dead and his aunt had not been heard from in seven years. Not that the law would see her as a capable guardian anyway.

The strength that he found that night in the fire would not be forgotten. He needed it to survive in a world of scars that he would later grow accustomed to. His disregard of logic wouldn't be forgotten either.

He was sixteen now.  
Years of putting his mouth where it didn't belong had gotten him into numerous brawls in his group "home", too many to count. He had realized soon that there would always be bad guys in his life, like the chest-shaving water polo players in Newport. But Chino was different. There were no principals,  
or teachers, or figures of authority that really cared. It was every man, or in this case, kid, for himself.

There was only one rule.

**Don't get caught.**

He forgot about that one.

_Too late._ Again.

He also soon realized that "Seth Cohen retaliatory zingers" would not be enough to save him here. And neither would a close call by the English teacher.  
When someone was in trouble, everyone turned their heads.

_No heros in Chino._

He needed something more to feel safe, to feel better about sleeping at night and not getting his head bashed into the wall. Again.  
That's where the stupidity came in. It was a simple plan, easy to follow through. He just had to take a knife at dinner and slide it into his pocket. It worked.  
Then, one day, he said a little too much.  
Nick, a guy who had always had it out for the dork in the corner who just couldn't keep his damn mouth shut, decided to have a little fun.  
It was an interesting verbal sparring match, with plenty of cracks about each other's mothers and such, when suddenly, it got a little messier.  
You see, no one really talked to Seth, at least not nicely anyway,

but he always listened.

Maybe a little too much.

Who would've thought that he had heard things that Nick didn't want to hear? Things that he didn't want anyone to hear? Things that could get him sent to a place no one in Chino wanted to see.

A little place called juvie.

Within seconds, Nick slammed into Seth and pushed him solidly to the ground, going instantly for the neck. And there it was. The smoke was back,  
filling Seth's lungs, leaving him gasping for breath. He had to breathe. _How to escape? How to escape!_ His brain was going crazy. Then he remembered.

**The knife.**

Using as much strength as possible, Seth sprang to Nick's arms, attempting to tear them from their grasp on his throat. If only he was that strong.  
With all of Nick's attention drawn to Seth's throat, his hands were left free. Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, he reached for the knife, which he kept in his sock. His fingers soon touched cold metal and, quickly understanding the fact that he had little air left in his lungs in order to follow through with various functions needed to survive, he grasped it firmly in his hands, and plunged it into Nick's arm. Shock immediately covered both faces,  
followed by a cry of pain from one, and a gaspof air from the other. Blood was soon covering the floor around the two boys, and no words were spoken.  
Then came the authorities. No need to ask who caused the scene. The knife was still in Seth's hand. All the evidence they needed. And then Seth knew.  
He knew where he was going.

_A little place called juvie._


	3. Author's Note

Author's Note 

Thanks for reading! And reviewing, can't forget reviewing. I've never written an author's note, so here goes.  
The chapters have been pretty short, and I haven't even introduced Ryan yet, but don't worry, I will. Unfortunately, I'm going to be in New York for two weeks, so I won't be able to update. I'm so sorry because I HATE people who take forever to update and now I'm one of those people. Oops! Please stick with me, though. I'll be back!  
Love,

Johnny


	4. Chapter 3

Disclaimer(for all chapters): I don't own The OC. At all.  
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He entered the hall, the stench of sweat already entering his nostrils from the entrance. This was the part he'd been dreading. Not just the daunting hisses from the dark shadows in the damp corners of every cell. That he could handle. No, that's not what he was scared of. As he peered down the long corridor, he knew what he was waiting for.

To wake up.

This couldn't be real. Any minute now, he'd wake up to the sounds of his mother's drunken mid-morning tirade, and everything would be normal. Because really, all Ryan wanted right now was some stability.  
A crutch, maybe.

He realized, with a sense of terrifying, gut-wrenching, heart-stopping finality, that this was it.

He wasn't going to wake up.  
This was his life now.

He had always thought he was different, promised himself he would never turn into his father.

He guessed he was wrong.

"Come on, kid," the guard said, leading him down past row after row, depressing cell after depressing cell.  
"It ain't gonna get any easier"  
He guessed this guy was pretty wise.

As the guard paused in front of the last cell in the hall, Ryan was surprised to see not some large, muscular tough guy, ready and waiting for him to trip up, make a mistake, just like he always did, but a skinny, normal looking kid, reading a comic of all things.  
When Ryan stepped inside, the brown-haired teenager looked up, and

Ryan realized that smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"I'm, Seth," he said.

He got off his cot and shook Ryan's hand, which was possibly the first time anyone had ever shook Ryan's hand.

**"Welcome to the dark side."**  
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A/N- I wrote the first chapter a long time ago, and I just realized just how incredibly depressing it is. Tell me if I should change it. Ideas are appreciated.


	5. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks for waiting patiently, guys. I like to write when something comes to me, so sometimes it takes a while. So here's a new, pretty short chapter. Enjoy the angst!

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Two months. Two months they had been in this place, and the two lonely teenagers had started to form a routine.

Wake up to the sound of the guards banging on the rusty bars, followed by a witty comment about the ironic comparison to rattling cages by Seth, and the hopeful statement that had become more of a "Good Morning" than anything: "Two more years in this place, man. Only two more years."

But today was different. It was the anniversary. Of the _day. _The day that Seth would never quite be able to forget.

So this morning, this particular morning, the bars were rattled, the boys were woken, and…silence.

Ryan was a bit unprepared for this change of events. It wasn't as though Seth told Ryan his life story or even how he was feeling, but still, Seth always talked. About the weather, and girls, and how it was completely unfair that they didn't have playstation in a juvenile detention center.

But today, nothing. Not even the sound of a creaking mattress or a heavy sigh. So Ryan pulled himself over the side of his top bunk and peered down to find…

A sleeping Seth.

_What the hell?_

Seth was never one to spend precious hours sleeping when he could be, well, talking. Or doing something else more productive.

Actually, now that he thought of it, Ryan had never seen Seth asleep before.

_Odd._

Well he was asleep now, that's for sure, though Ryan didn't see how he could stay asleep through the banging. Ryan himself started thinking about how annoying that rattling was, and how they could use something nicer like some sort of bell or something, when he was disrupted by a mumbling.

It was Seth. _Nice,_ he thought. _A chance for some good blackmail._

He started mumbling again, and Ryan leaned in towards his face to hear, so much that he could hear the soft, labored breathing coming from Seth's mouth.

"No…Why…Why are the flames here? They're supposed to be gone. I don't…I don't want to remember…the flames."

_Wait…what?_

Suddenly, Ryan felt like he was eavesdropping, listening in on some part of Seth's life he wasn't supposed to hear. At least not until Seth told him. While fully conscious.

"Seth…Seth." Ryan softly shook the gangly teenager, suddenly feeling some sort of closeness to him, some sort of bond.

Kinda like brothers.

And suddenly, Ryan didn't feel so lonely anymore.

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A/N- Hope you like! And reviews are fun and make me inspired to write more. So review!


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